


Nesting

by jdjunkie



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Established Relationship, Kissing, M/M, Secret Relationship, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-20 12:26:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11920890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jdjunkie/pseuds/jdjunkie
Summary: A friend drops by unexpectedly and the visit could change everything.





	Nesting

**Author's Note:**

  * For [colonelsandgeeks](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=colonelsandgeeks).



> Written for colonelsandgeeks for the 2017 Jack/Daniel Ficathon.
> 
> Beta thanks to Princessofgeeks. Fandom sister of my heart.
> 
> The fic is set in that gloriously uncertain period between seasons eight and nine.

Nesting by jdjunkie

 

 

“Up a little.” Jack moved a step back to get a better view.

Daniel adjusted the painting, tilting the right corner up a touch.

“A little more.”

Daniel moved it again, a fraction.

“A touch lower.”

“You just said 'up a little.'”

Daniel sounded a little testy.

“I know. But you went too far and now it needs to come down.” Jack closed one eye and checked the alignment again. He also checked out Daniel's butt. The painting was a distraction. Daniel's ass was the star attraction here.

Daniel was standing on a kitchen stool, stretching up over the fireplace of Jack's new Washington townhouse. His sweatshirt was riding up, offering a tantalizing glimpse of bare skin just above the glorious rounding of his butt.

“You're checking out my ass, aren't you?” He'd gone from testy to weary. It _had_ been a long day.

“Of course not. I'm concentrating on the job at hand.”

“Then concentrate harder. My arms are aching.”

Jack knew he'd stretched the butt-watching thing as far as he could. “Okay. It'll have to do.”

Daniel placed both hands on the mantlepiece and lowered himself off the stool with a grateful exhalation of breath. He negotiated some packing cases and went and stood beside Jack. Arms folded, he considered the artwork.

“It's perfectly straight.”

Jack tilted his head and considered Daniel's statement. “If you say so.”

They stood in silence for a moment.

“That is a terrible painting,” Daniel said, eventually.

“Hey. It's my grandfather's attempt at the view from the cabin.”

“I know. And I love that you love it, and that you've kept it for years, and I understand the sentiment. But it _is_ terrible.”

It was. Even his grandfather had said so when he proudly presented it to Jack's grandmother when the family was together celebrating her birthday when Jack was about seven. _Early morning, Minnesota_ had passed into family legend. The perspective was shot to hell, the sky, which had been “after Constable” was more like an after-thought, and the stick figures fishing from the jetty were so sub-Lowry that Jack remembered telling his grandpa that he couldn't tell if they were men or women. The nervous laughter from the assembled adults had grown into full-blown hysteria at that point. Grandpa admitted that he didn't know either. “What's important, son, is the fishing,” he'd said.

Words to live by.

But, terrible as the artwork was, Jack had never gotten rid of it, and he had stored it safely ever since he'd inherited it. He'd never felt the need to have it on show, though. Until now.

Looking around the living room, it was an unintended metaphor for his life - a mass of chaos and upheaval. It wasn't lost on him that he was seeking comfort in the constants.

The man standing beside him, countenance thoughtful, was one of those constants. The most important one, actually. Perhaps he'd tell him that, again, later, in the sanctuary of the new bed that had been delivered an hour ago.

“It looks right, though,” Daniel said. “It kind of belongs there, in an odd, indefinable way.”

Jack smiled. It did.

“Yeah.” he sighed. “Gonna be a while before we can get up to the cabin again.”

“Am I allowed to be happy about that?”

“No.”

Daniel pretended not to love the cabin. But he'd fallen for its abundant charms over the years. They'd made love for the first time there, after Daniel came back from that endless, painful year away. The old bedstead had groaned in time to their joint, disbelieving pleasure. They'd waited so long …

“I'll go for the Christmas holidays, okay? At least I won't get bitten to death by bugs. And that's the only upside I can think of.”

“Oh, pshaw, Daniel. You love hiking through snow, ice fishing, the rush of the winter wind on your face.” Jack walked to the sofa and lifted the flap on a cardboard box, peering inside at its contents.

“Ah, yes, the wet socks, the numb cheeks, the tiny icicles on the eyelashes. Mmmmmm.”

Jack took out a pile of photo frames that had been wrapped with military neatness. He started to look through them. “You like the cold,” he said, absently, attention taken by images in the frames. “Means you can legitimately snuggle.”

“Since when have we needed an excuse to snuggle?”

Daniel leaned in for a quick kiss. It was brief and gentle and spoke of familiarity and love. Jack never stopped being amazed that they had this. Still under the radar, still their own best-kept secret but they spent what time they could together and one day they'd spend _all_ their time together. One day. Not now, though. Now, Jack was in Washington and at Homeworld and Daniel was about to head out on the Daedalus for Atlantis, something Jack still wasn't comfortable with. It was bad enough being half a continent apart; an entire galaxy was another thing altogether. Jack was still hoping to pull rank. He'd just have to live with how monumentally pissed about that Daniel would be.

Jack shrugged the thought away and found himself lost in the picture he held in his hands. He looked so unbelievably fucking young. He was wearing combat fatigues, smoking a cigarette. He'd forgotten where it had been taken and who had taken it. The guy in the picture almost felt like someone else. That time in his life felt so far away. He had just married Sara and they had the world at their feet. They were a unit. Unbeatable. He'd fucked up badly. He wouldn't, couldn't, do that again.

He placed the frame on the mantle. There was still space for Sara and Charlie. One day, he'd add the photo of Daniel on the camel, the one he'd kept safe when Daniel was gone. Everyone thought he was just looking after Daniel's more personal stuff, the kind of stuff that shouldn't be relegated to packing boxes and storage rooms. In fact, taking that photo from the bedside drawer, where it lay face down and hidden, and looking at it, had gotten Jack through some bitterly lonely days and nights.

Daniel always said he loved that photograph; reminded him of a time when he was free and happy and doing what he loved.

And Jack loved Daniel, so naturally he loved the picture, too. It was amazing how something so everyday and simple could become so necessary; it was a years-old image in an unremarkable wooden frame. But the smallest of comforts had gotten him through that awful time – occasional visits to Daniel's lab when he knew it was empty; the soft breath of air on his face in a sterile corridor; the feel of a leather-bound notebook in his hands.

Snapping his thoughts back to the here and now, Jack watched Daniel set up the music system, searching out sockets hidden behind the growing pile of books on the beautiful built-in teak shelving that flanked the fireplace. He moved on to handling the box of Jack's beloved vinyl albums, something he did with gentle care.

As sometimes happened at the most unexpected of moments, Jack was overcome with a wave of love for this man. This man who had cracked open his defenses almost by stealth and made his home in Jack's heart.

“Wanna listen to this?

Daniel waved a Big Bill Broonzy album in Jack's general direction.

“Always.”

_Worried Man Blues_ crackled its way into life, Broonzy's soulful voice and guitar filling the room. He loved opera but his love of blues was ingrained, inherited from his father. Purist that he was, Jack eschewed modern methods of music delivery wherever possible, preferring the hiss and scratch of vinyl.

Another constant.

Daniel stretched, massaging the small of his back with both hands. He grimaced and took in a sharp hiss of breath.

“Go take a bath,” Jack said. “I'm not gonna unpack much more tonight.”

“I'm okay.” He kneaded his sore muscles some more.

“Sure you are. Look. It's self-preservation here. Landry will be pissed if I send you back unfit to go offworld.”

“I'm not going yet.” He sounded vaguely pissy; he'd always hated saying goodbye to Jack. Daniel didn't do goodbyes. There had been too many partings, too may losses in his life. They had 47 hours left before Daniel had to head west. Not that Jack was counting. Not that he was already dreading that moment when the better part of him headed out the door.

“Humor me. Take a bath and I'll order in some takeout.”

“Thai?”

“Whatever you want.”

Daniel yawned. “Will you scrub my back?”

“Only if it's a euphemism for hot sex.”

They both smiled at that. The spirit was always willing, the body … well that depended on weather-contingent knees and weight of workload.

This time, Jack leaned in for a quick kiss, which slowly, satisfyingly, deepened into something long and hungry. Daniel made that cute little moany noise at the back of his throat and Jack put his arms around Daniel's waist, pulling him in tighter, closer. The thrill of Daniel's hands settling at Jack's waist as the kiss went on was visceral. However close they were, it was never close enough. Daniel's beard was soft and tickled Jack's lips in a delightful way. The facial hair was new and Jack kind of liked it, so he reached up and stroked Daniel's cheek with gentle fingers. They touched a lot. It almost made up for the times when they couldn't.

“Mmmmmm.” Daniel kept his eyes closed after Jack reluctantly pulled away. He licked his lips and finally opened his eyes, giving Jack the warmest, happiest, most relaxed smile Jack had seen in a long time. God, the urge to take him on the new couch was immense. Maybe later. There was still 47 hours to go, after all.

“I hope you've unpacked the rubber duck,” Daniel said over his shoulder as he yawned again and headed upstairs for the bathroom.

After a while, Jack heard the bath water start to run. A long, hot soak would do Daniel the world of good. He'd been working too hard preparing for his next great adventure.

Jack pulled out his cellphone and started a search for recommended Thai restaurants.

Big Bill was singing about rain-heavy skies as dark as night when there was a sharp rap on the front door.

Still scrolling through the options, Jack wandered to the door and opened it to find Davis standing there, ramrod straight and military through and through. He had a briefcase in one hand and an umbrella in the other. It was pouring with rain.

“Major.”

“General.”

“You forgot the fruit basket.”

Jack loved to tease him. The man was just so damned proper. The teasing, though, was nothing but affectionate. Daniel liked him, too, and Daniel was a pretty good judge of character. Davis was one of the good guys.

“Yes, Sir. But I didn't forget these briefing papers that you forgot when you left your office.” Davis held up the briefcase. He was obviously trying immensely hard not to gloat.

Jack pursed his lips. He knew when he was beaten.

“Then you'd better come in. Be rude not to invite you into my cardboard hell.” He waved him in expansively.

“Thank you, Sir.”

Davis followed Jack into the living room after leaving the dripping umbrella by the coat stand in the hallway.

“General Vidrine asked me to remind you about the 08.30 meeting with the Joint Chiefs, Sir.”

“I'm duly reminded.”

“And then you have a budget meeting, followed by lunch with a couple of Senators General Hammond is eager for you to meet. Oh, and your new assistant will be assigned tomorrow, so he or she will take you through your diary for the rest of the week. I believe some time has been factored in to allow you to settle into your new home.”

“It all sounds like so much fun,” Jack said, smiling in a way he hoped Davis could see was somewhat disingenuous.

Davis's eyes roamed around the room, coming to rest on the painting over the fireplace.

“Nice painting,” he said, clearly casting around for something to say.

“It's not. But it looks right there, don't you think?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Jack held out his hand and nodded towards the briefcase.  
  
“Oh, yes.”

Jack placed it on the coffee table, next to an open packing case. Sitting on top of a pile of magazines in the box was a hand-painted matryoska Russian nesting doll. It dated from the early 20th century. It was beautiful; colorful, distinctive. One of a kind, according to Daniel, who adored it. It had lived in Daniel's apartment until he'd given it to Jack.

“ _It's a down payment.”_

“ _On what?”_

“ _Shelf space. When I move in. Russian doll today, a stack of archaeology journals later.”_

Davis's gaze fell upon the doll.

He'd been with Daniel when he bought it from a shop tucked away down a Moscow side street. Daniel had told Jack all about their shopping trip back when they were negotiating with the Russians when Teal'c got stuck in the Gate buffer. They were tailed all the way by the Russian military. They led them a merry dance. The doll had been a real find.

And now the little doll was lying in an open box on Jack's coffee table.

“ _It's unique. Probably painted by Malyutin himself.”_

“ _Oh. Malyutin, you say.”_

“ _It's worth a lot.”_

“ _I'll be sure to dust it with care.”_

“ _The space it'll occupy on your shelf is worth more to me.”_

“ _I'll look after it. Until you get to dust it yourself.”_

“ _I like the sound of that.”_

“ _Me too.”_

Davis lifted his eyes and met Jack's. Jack tried to keep his countenance neutral, but he knew what Davis had seen. And he knew that Davis had recognized it.

Time stretched. Davis blinked. Jack's heart beat a little faster.

“08.30, Sir.”

“08.30, Major.”

Davis nodded and turned away.

Jack followed him out into the hallway. Davis picked up his umbrella and Jack leaned past him to open the front door.

“Welcome to Washington, General. Enjoy your new home.”

It wasn't a home. Home was Daniel.

“I will some day, Major. Soon.”

Jack couldn't really parse the look that passed between them.

The doll could simply have been a gift from Daniel to Jack, but Jack felt that Davis somehow knew it signified something more. He was smart. He'd probably had his suspicions. God knew the rumors had been flying for years, only partially deflected by the rumors about him and Carter.

“Good night, Sir.” Davis put up the umbrella and walked down the stone steps towards a waiting car.

“Night.”

Jack watched the car pull away then stepped back inside, closed the door and leaned against it, eyes closed. They were so careful about what they said, how they acted around other people. All the half-lies and half-truths that neither confirmed nor denied; all the days and nights of being apart when they'd needed each other but circumstances and appearances wouldn't allow it. The glances they'd avoided because sometimes they couldn't look at each other without giving away everything they felt. It would be more than a little ironic if a small, inanimate wooden ornament had just given it all away.

Deep in thought he climbed the stairs, feet dragging. He was shaking slightly. There was so much at stake.

He reached the bathroom and tapped lightly on the door.

“Found the rubber duck?”

Just the sound of Daniel's voice centered him, calmed his fear. It always did. He smiled and summoned the most perfect O'Neillian response he could. “No but I've got a pretty big loofah.”

Daniel's laugh was accompanied by an exasperated, “God.”

He trusted in Daniel and everything they'd fought for.

And Davis was a good man.

He was willing to trust in that, too.

 

ends

 

 

 

 


End file.
